Her Daughter-in-Law: A totally addictive psychological thriller with a shocking twist (The Sister Wife Domestic Suspense Thrillers Book 3) by Anya Mora

Author:Anya Mora [Mora, Anya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books psychological thrillers, suspense and crime
Published: 2024-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

“Hey, wait,” I say when we’re halfway to the compound. “That convenience store to the left, pull in there.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I remember Abel talking about this place. It’s where he got his phone. He said sometimes on the way back from the construction site they would stop here, at Handy’s Pit Stop. Maybe Handy knows where they went.”

He nods. “Yes, let’s go in and ask. They might know something.”

Inside the gas station, I optimistically take out my phone, pulling up a photograph of Abel. I hold my phone in my hand, scared to speak, but when the man behind the register asks how he can help, I tell him the truth.

“I’m looking for my son; his name’s Abel. He’s almost sixteen. He lives down at the compound that’s not too far from here. They have a construction crew, Garden Construction,” I say with a lift in my voice. “Anyway, I know that they stop here sometimes after work, and I thought maybe you might recognize him. He’s missing.”

The man frowns. “Do you have a picture?”

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, of course.” I turn my phone to face him. “I know he’s been in here. He bought some flip phones from you and . . .”

“I know that kid, yeah. He’d come in here sometimes, buy chips and soda. He got some phones. He’s your boy?”

I nod. “Yes, Abel Priest.”

The man runs a hand over his jaw. “They usually come in early in the morning like this, or right before dinner. They stop here, get gas, pick up a few things. Kind of quiet group of men.”

“Yes, that is probably right. They kept to themselves.”

“I hear them talk sometimes. They’ve been working over on Pack Mile Road. I thought it was a construction site, but my buddy Eric, he was up there hunting a few weeks ago, and he said there’s this whole maze of containers underground. Looked like they were building an underground bunker.”

My voice falters, “Underground?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of crazy, right? Anyway, I’ve never been out there myself, but you want me to give my buddy a call?”

“Pack Mile Road near here?” Boone asks.

“Yeah, only about twenty minutes east. They have some real nice trails out there. My friend got himself a five-point buck, if you believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Boone says warmly, somehow fitting in with this man. “Well, that’s good to know. Maybe they’re out there now.”

“Maybe,” the guy says, “but I haven’t seen them this morning. I haven’t actually seen them the last few days, which is kind of weird. Sometimes they stop and get beer and shit, and I always think, ‘Man, it’s early in the morning to be drinking a sixteen ouncer.’”

Boone chuckles. “Yeah, they must be working hard if they’re building a bunker.”

“Exactly,” the guy says. “Anyway, sorry I don’t know any more. But they weren’t, like, mean guys; they just kind of seemed serious. And your kid,” he says, pointing back to my phone, “he never wanted anyone to see what he was buying.

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